


Breaking Point

by WandersUnderStarlight



Series: Not Just a Spark [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Prowl, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 10:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandersUnderStarlight/pseuds/WandersUnderStarlight
Summary: Maybe, if he was lucky, this stunt would get him deactivated and Prowl would go on a murderous rampage against the Decepticons.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is where it gets worse before it gets better. It was hard for me to write, so I hope it's okay.  
> :Blah:- Comms. speak  
>  _:Blah:_ \- Hardline speak

“Is something on your processor, Jazz?” Optimus’ comforting rumble brought him out of his contemplation of his energon ration. “You’ve been a little more quiet than I’m used to.”

_Your tactician is fragging crazy. He’s trying to force me to bond to him. But he’s the best tactician we’ve ever had and we’re finally sort of winning._

“‘S nothin’, OP. Jus’ thinkin’. Strange, I know.” Jazz grinned.

It had been a while since they could just sit in the rec room and drink energon together. They had been friends for a long time, before the war, back when Optimus had still been Orion. Jazz missed the cycles from before when the two of them could spend joors scouring the Archives for music and culture.

Optimus chuckled. “And what are you thinking about?”

_I feel trapped all the time. Every gift he gives me feels like a hardlight chain. But if I don’t accept them…_

“Just noticin’ tha’ morale is up, which is great. Wonderin’ if we should throw a little party or somethin’.”

The Prime nodded in mock officialness, optics twinkling. “Of course. A “small” get together to celebrate our accomplishments wouldn’t be amiss. I trust I can put you in charge of such a thing?”

_Anything to keep me busy and away from him. In fact, can you send me to Kaon for the foreseeable future?_

“Sure thing, OP.”

His leader’s too perceptive gaze didn’t abate. “Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked gently.

It was on the tip of Jazz’s glossa to spill everything, but he got a good look at Optimus’ faceplates, free of the mask for a change. The stress that he’d seen plaguing Optimus recently was gone. His optics held hope that had been absent under a weight of depression. The raise in morale wasn’t just from the recent successful missions. The troops emulated their leader.

Jazz ducked his helm, “Eh, ya know, jus’ some personal stuff. Nothin’ ta worry about.”

“It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with those mysterious gifts you’ve been getting?”

All of Jazz’s internals froze for a klik, though he managed to remain normal on the outside.

“Because I don't think anyone would mind you finding a little happiness given the surroundings.” Optimus continued kindly.

Jazz bit back the urge to laugh hysterically at his friend’s misplaced concern and sighed instead. “‘S against th’ regs.” He lied.

“Slag the regs.” Optimus muttered into his energon in a rare fit of pique. 

Jazz did laugh now, but it was in true delight. Hearing Optimus curse was always hilarious to the visored mech. It was also a good measure of his mood. The more relaxed he was, the more likely his humble roots would show through incidental profanity.

Jazz’s spark constricted lightly.

_I can’t tell him._

 

Vorns of war and Jazz was still amazed how quickly things could spiral out of control and go directly to the Pit.

A straightforward confrontation had turned into a clusterfrag because somehow Prowl had gotten himself separated from the main company and pinned down by a trine of seekers. He was also apparently injured, as he dryly had informed Prime over the comms  
he couldn’t move because his left leg had been blown off at the knee. And now Optimus refused to leave him.

...Fraggit.

Jazz knew for a fact that no amount of persuasion would make Optimus change his mind now. Laser fire rained down on their temporary fortification from a group of ground-bound Decepticons as the trine shot at Prowl in his hiding spot.

A small dark part of Jazz hoped that one of the seekers would get off a lucky shot and deactivate the Praxian. It would certainly solve Jazz’s personal problems. As soon as the thought crossed his processors he was horrified at himself. What kind of mech was he turning into? And besides that, Prowl was essential to the Autobots. To Optimus. Too important to let deactivate.

“Frag me.” He muttered.

Jazz ducked down while the others were distracted and opened a panel on his side. He barely twitched in pain as he disconnected his auxiliary energon converter. A message on his HUD warned him that he would go into stasis in 20 breems. Plenty of time. After a couple of minor adjustments to the converter, he crept to the edge of the shelter.

Maybe, if he was lucky, this stunt would get him deactivated and Prowl would go on a murderous rampage against the Decepticons. 

Primus, when had his humor gotten so dark? Oh right, when an insane mech decided that they were destined bondmates.

Jazz pause only for a klik to subspace the energon converter and then dove out from cover. 

:Jazz!: Optimus yelled in panic over the comm, :What are you doing?!:

:Retrieving your tactician, Sir.:

He transformed and dodged the laser fire as he streaked from burned out building to burned out building. The last sprint to Prowl’s half-covered alcove was a transformation followed by a roll. 

14 breems.

Prowl looked pretty bad. Sure enough, the bottom half of his leg was missing.

“What do you think you are-?”

“Shut-up an’ listen t’ meh. I’m gonna get rid of th’ seekers, then we’re gonna book it outta here.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Prowl said snappishly. “I cannot move.”

Jazz pulled an illegal energon dagger out of his subspace. “Yer gonna just hav’ta trust meh.”

He waited until one of the seekers dipped low for another strafing run and stood. The energon dagger was thrown with pinpoint accuracy through the mech’s plaiting to imbed in his spark chamber. The seeker screeched in agony.

9 breems.

Jazz transformed and yelled, “Get on!”

To his credit, Prowl immediately latched on and held tight to the back of his alt mode as Jazz floored it. The other two seekers fell screaming from the sky as they felt their trine bond snap. Jazz redlined his engine, making a seeming beeline towards the ground Decepticons that were engaged with their unit. He felt a shot clip his side. At the last second he swerved and ejected his auxiliary energon converter out of his subspace into the group. 

**B-Blaaaaam!**

That had been one of his better explosions, if he did say so, himself.

Heat and light washed over his back except where it was protected by Prowl’s body mass.

Pushing his engine has sped up the count. 2 breems.

Jazz skidded into the fortification, transforming and knocking Prowl off his back into the waiting servos of Rachet.

“The frag did you think you were doing?” Ratchet yelled even as he started triaging Prowl’s leg.

“Wha’ ‘ad t’ be done.” Jazz said, exhaustion in his voice. Oh look his HUD was counting down the kliks now.

“Jazz?” Prowl said. Huh, that was a new tone that he’d never heard from the tactician's vocalized.

Stasis Lock Engaged. 

Jazz’s legs folding under him was the last thing he felt. Prowl’s blazing optics were the last thing he saw. Then sweet oblivion took over as he fell offline. 

 

Jazz onlined to the sight of the ceiling of the medbay and all his Ops mods screaming at him that somebot was hardlined into his processor. He gasped and tried to yank the cable out of his port only to discover that he’d been strapped down to the berth upon which he was laying.

_:Be calm. Rachet had to restrain you during surgery.:_

“Tha’s not why Ah’m upset, ya glitch!” Jazz snarled, glaring at the stoic black and white Praxian sitting next to the berth. He went for his comms; they’d been blocked. Where was Rachet? Where was anybot?

_:Resting. It is Gamma shift.:_

_:I didn’t ask you!:_

He quickly built up several firewalls around his personality core and pushed as hard as he could at the invading presence.

_:Stop. I need to monitor you.:_

_:GET OUTTA MY PROCESSOR!:_ The mental shriek echoed back and forth between them. Jazz’s mind aggressively fought against Prowl’s. Biting, clawing, just trying to get him out, out, OUT!

Prowl’s processor withstood that attack as he held on tightly. He started breaking Jazz’s firewalls.

_:No! Stop it!:_

And Prowl… stopped. _:Then be still and listen.:_

Everything became curiously quiet. As they glared at each other in the physical world; their personalities crackled and hissed at each other like electricity in the mental.

 _:You nearly deactivated.:_ Prowl said without preamble. His optics took on a strange, intense glint. _:I could sense your spark flickering.:_

_:Wha’?:_

Prowl stood and loomed over him. He put his servos on either side of Jazz’s helm.

_:I almost lost you. That is not acceptable.:_

Jazz physically growled. “I’m not yours to lose.”

Prowl’s engine gave a muted roar. Something feral flashed in his optics.

_:LIES! You are MINE. You will always be mine!:_

_:Frag off!:_

Prowl crashed their dermas together, something that felt like hostile desperation in his suffocating EMF. The tactician used the distraction to delve into a specific part of Jazz’s code, ripping the firewall apart, and triggering the locks of his chestplate to open.

Jazz screeched in his mind as he couldn’t get any sound past his dermas. He threw everything he had at Prowl’s mind as the Praxian opened his own chestplates and pressed against Jazz in a Lesser Merge. Only the coronas of their sparks touched. Their spark chambers remained closed, and Prowl did not seem be attempting to open them.

A Lesser Merge would not form a bond between them, but they could sense each other’s emotions during it. Jazz was a maelstrom of seething anger and betrayal. At first, Prowl was an uncharacteristic jumble of anxiety mixed with crazed determination, but as the Merge settled his emotions smoothed out into serene cool calmness.

It did not hurt, which just added another layer of confusion to the chaotic swirl that was Jazz at the moment. Forced merges were supposed to hurt, but this actually felt good. Sweet heat sang across his circuits even as his mind rebelled. How fragged up was that? Why was it happening?

It gave him focus, however, breaking through the instinctive panic. Jazz broke off his attack against Prowl’s admittedly more powerful processor and remote hacked the restraints on the medical berth. The moment they came loose he yanked the hardline cable out and slammed his other servo against Prowl’s midsection channeling a powerful mag pulse into the Praxian’s body. 

Shock and the barest hint of desire flashed through the merge before he was dislodged and stumbled back against the wall. Jazz rolled off the other side of the berth to put it between them. He panted out excess heat through his mouth. Prowl’s engine was still revving. A bit of energon trickled from the corner of his mouth, possibly from Jazz rupturing something. 

Jazz’s processor ached blindingly and he could only vindictively hope that Prowl was suffering the same.

“I’ll fraggin’ kill ya.” Jazz hissed closing his chestplates.

Prowl wiped the energon from his face matter-of-factly and closed his own chestplates. 

“No you won’t.” He said confidently.

Frag him for being right.


End file.
